


Season 2 Finale - Bad End

by ChaoticSparklez



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Anxiety, Bad Ending, Beating, Blood and Violence, Child Abuse, Dadza will arrive eventually, Derealization, Dream Smp, Dream is a Bad Dude, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Isolation, Lots of tears, Manipulation, Near Death, Physical Abuse, Prison, SBI is real, Suicide, Temporary Character Death, Threats of Violence, Tommy has a bad time, Verbal Abuse, ranboo will save the day just you wait
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28941135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticSparklez/pseuds/ChaoticSparklez
Summary: One of my favorite tropes in a series; the protagonist, outnumbered and out of options, awaits their demise at the end of a long, tireless battle. Then, suddenly, almost out of nowhere, all of their friends and former enemies emerge from the dark, overpowering the bad guy and allowing the protagonist to live another day, in victory.Well, that doesn't make for good fanfiction now does it?It's the season 2 finale, and Punz and all the others are nowhere to be found. Have fun in prison, Tommy.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 169





	1. The End of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so I'm back!!! Kinda.... don't expect endings to anything else I've written but hopefully, this is a short story that will only be a few chapters, I'll just have to see where it ends up.
> 
> To start off, please remember the Dream SMP storyline is a work of fiction, and as is this story. Dream is going to be a very bad person in this story, okay? And that in no way reflects my actual opinion of Dream, as his persona or in real life. I remember this shit happening with Mianite too, when a character would play the bad guy and all these kids would go treating that person as if they weren't acting on a script. This is all for fun or for angst, and no one is getting hurt irl.
> 
> That being said, if any of the Dream SMP wants this story gone, then it's gone. Comments and feedback are appreciated and thank you for reading!

“But who am I even? Without you?” Tommy pled to his best friend, tears in his eyes threatening to fall, while Tubbo smiled such a sad smile, breaking his heart in half again and again with each second.

“Yourself.” Tubbo put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, his eyes glassy but his smile unwavering. Tommy wouldn’t believe it, he refused to. He and Tubbo have been friends for so long, he could hardly remember a time where they’d been apart, other than the exile of course. Sure they’ve had their fights and arguments but at the end of the day they were just Tommy and Tubbo, against the world.

“Stop, Tubbo, quit acting like we’ve lost already, we’ve got to get out of here, maybe if we run to the portal-“

“Not likely,” Tubbo said lightly, “We’d be dead before we get there, it’s just too far.” How could be sound so optimistically resigned? Tommy knew he tended to keep his emotions hidden behind his optimism, and even now, accepting death with a smile on his face, Tommy couldn’t read a single hint of fear coming from the boy.

Tommy stood with his mouth agape, at a temporary loss for words. He’d felt that a few times today already, tangling every single response with every argument and ultimately deciding nothing he say would matter in the least. “It’s like what Dream said about me being a pawn...” Tubbo continued, making one last glance to his awaiting death and then towards his best friend. “We’ve played this game of chess for long enough, and I suggest you resign.”

Warm tears cascaded down his face as a Tommy struggled with a response, “Please, Tubbo. Don’t...” He outstretched his hand.

“Goodbye Tommy.” Tubbo nodded once then proceeded to walk back to where Dream was, taking a knee right before the man with his bow held taught, pointed directly at the center of Tubbo forehead.

“No! I won’t let you die, Tubbo!” Tommy clenched his eyes shut and made to grab for the Axe of Peace once again, but his hand stopped midair when he heard the snap of Dream’s bow, and a sick thud echoed throughout the dungeon. Tommy’s heart dropped through the floor and he turned slowly, beyond his control, to see what happened. “No,” he muttered in defeat, the second he saw the body of his best friend lying cold in a puddle of his own blood, he was so still he could be sleeping. His foot stepped further as his main objective was to wake Tubbo up, or maybe to wake himself from this horrible nightmare. He only took a single step before Dream pulled his axe again, and told him to stop.

“Don’t come any closer, Tommy.” Dream warned, and Tommy halted. He felt so close to the edge of losing his mind, and letting go of his sobs and screaming in pain, pleading with Dream or anyone to bring his friend back. But he was silent, stuck staring at the limp corpse of his Tubbo. It was over.

Dream sheathed the axe behind his back and crouched to pick up the body. Tommy twitched, every muscle in his body wanted to run at him full speed, to demand Dream let go of his friend, to never touch him again or else-

But he was helpless, utterly at the control of the man holding his dead friend. He stared, shaking uncontrollably as Dream cared the body to a side room, somewhere Tommy couldn’t see into but didn’t dare try to follow. Instead he sank to his knees, wrapped his arms tightly around his chest and cried onto the floor. His chest hurt, not from the wounds of battle but from the grief. His lungs felt full to the brim with blood that begged to be released, every breath tore out of his mouth like vomit, and he felt his mind collapse in the stress of it all. He’d never cried like this before, with his own arms suffocating him, inconceivably alone, and so so hopeless. His mouth felt foamy and his knees hurt like hell but nothing mattered anymore, he just kept crying there, curled into a ball waiting for the nightmare to end, or for someone to come out laughing, saying it was all a joke.

But no one came.

Only cold footsteps approached, the dark metal clanging loudly on the stone flooring, the only sound Tommy could hear despite his own tears and labored breathing.

The footsteps stopped before him, and he heard a loud, bored sigh come from above.“Get up, Tommy.” Dream said impatiently. “It’s over now, time to go to the prison.”

Tommy managed to take a breath and wipe his tears and snot from his face, but he couldn’t command his legs to stand. He stared at Dream’s boots, not able to lift his head to look his captor in the eyes- not that he would want to.

Another sigh and Dream knelt to the ground, putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “Come on,” he commanded again, but this time his voice was soft and sympathetic, “Hey, Tommy? Come on buddy. It’s okay now, it’s over, and we’ve got to go back now.”

Tommy met his eyes, and felt comforted by his change in tone, but that made him feel even worse for wanting to listen this man after he killed his best friend in front of him. “It’s not, it’s not okay. You killed Tubbo,” Tommy whimpered, shaking his head. “You just killed him, I can’t believe you did that. Why did you do that?” He pleaded with his eyes.

But Dream stared back through the large crack in his mask, his green eye betraying no sign of empathy or regret. “It’s time to leave, Tommy. I’m not going to carry you. You either walk or I drag you behind me, which won’t be that pleasant in the nether.” He nodded towards the portal, the only way out besides the platform.

Tommy said nothing more, and got to his feet, following Dream to the portal at a slow, defeated pace. Dream led with the axe held ready to strike, peaking his eyes back every other step to make sure Tommy was behind him. But Tommy didn’t want to run. He didn’t want to follow, or cry, or breathe, he wished he could faint, just to be comforted by the darkness of sleep, or maybe he wished he were dead now, instead of Tubbo...

His tears burned his eyes more than usual while they walked through the nether, Tommy never out of range of Dream’s axe. He stumbled a few times, despite having his gaze glued to the dark red flooring, he couldn’t register where they went, only the monotonous task of putting one foot in front of the other, again and again.Dream small talked the whole trek, shamelessly commenting on the battle at dawn, offering some sick critique on their performances.

“What I found hilarious was how you let me talk for so long at the beginning,” Dream rambled, “You dumb idiots used all your potions at the start of the fight, in plain view, then just let me talk until they ran out.” He cackled. “I can’t believe you waited, but it’s not like those potions would’ve done anything anyway.”

Tommy barely listened, anything Dream recounted he only felt the fear and desperate hope he had during that moment in time. How frightened Tubbo sounded, getting hit over and over while Tommy tried to look for an escape. The way Dream would carelessly swing the ax at Tubbo for any threat. How tired Tubbo seemed near the end of it all, how resigned he was when he told Tommy goodbye.

He continued that way, dissociative and unresponsive, as he followed Dream’s tracks, and soon they reached a nether portal, the one that leads to right outside of L’Manberg. Or at least what used to be L’Manberg. They exited the other side, and Dream headed straight for the prison, the gigantic black structure at the end of the path. Tommy remembered when he saw it for the first time, back when he and Techno infiltrated the festival. He almost shat his pants, he couldn’t imagine what poor sap would end up inside, what they would go through.

He never thought he would be the one trapped in a cell.

There was no one in town, just absolute silence, like everyone who had sent him and Tubbo off that evening had simply vanished. Tommy wondered if anyone would protest, seeing Dream escorting him to the big, scary prison. He wouldn’t find out, because there wasn’t a sound in the area near. Not a single soul.

They neared the prison. The entrance was as grand as the rest of it, full of obsidian and blackstone, looming ominously overhead as they entered. It was complex and confusing, every door required a different keycard, every lever was unlabeled, the whole place stinked of sulfur and magma, and Tommy felt a sinking weight in his muscles. It was different from his ordinary fatigue, this was an effect generated by the walls of the prison. It would take an eternity to mine a single block.

They came upon a door that Tommy assumed was the entrance to the cell, just by how massive it was. Dream flipped a lever and the door slowly forged open to reveal an entire wave of lava streaming from the ceiling. Another lever and the lava filed down patiently and a pathway was cleared, leading to the small black box. Dream pushed his hand against Tommy’s back, urging him down the bridge. “Go on,” he said, “and welcome to your new home.”

—-

Tommy never knew how boring being imprisoned would be. It was worse than exile, because at least then he could build, or hunt or farm, or defend his shabby house, but here all he had were the black walls and a clock that ticked by slowly but surely each second. That clock was the only thing Tommy could see and believe time was actually passing.

He found out Sam was the guard of the prison, in fact he built the thing. He knew because Sam delivered his food daily, raw potatoes, the worst. Tommy wouldn’t look him in the eyes long enough to read him, he didn’t want any pity or anything.

Sometimes he could hear Wilbur, not Ghostbur but Wilbur’s ghost, standing at the front of the room like he was hosting a war meeting, but all he did was talk down to Tommy and remind him of his failings. If Tommy got worked up enough to stand and talk back the image of his friend would vanish, and Tommy was left with the unbearable feeling of being completely alone.

Most of his time he spent laying on the hard stone floor, gazing up at the clock and the ceiling, wondering how else he could waste time. He didn’t know the point of it all, waiting day in and out feeling terrible, make believing what people would say to him if they came to visit. He knew that was unlikely, though, Dream probably told everyone he was dead already. He wondered if people would think of Dream as a friend still, with the knowledge that he killed two children in cold blood, or even that he killed one and locked the other in a tight, inescapable box to suffer while everyone else goes about their days.

The box was sweltering. Despite the barrier of stone and brick the presence of the lava surrounding his cell was evident at all times. His only coolant was his tattered clothes, soaked in his own sweat. If he were told he was slowly roasting in a giant oven, he’d believe it. The heat made each move sluggish and weighted, even his tears made his eyes boil. And sleeping was a nightmare, in every way. He could toss and turn for hours and hours, unable to be comfortable or cool enough in his sticky skin. Then once the blackness overcame him, his dreams were filled with different scenarios of Tubbo dying, sometimes by Dream’s hand, sometimes not. It felt real every time, and always started out with such relief too, as upon the sight of his best friend Tommy would be perfectly convinced his real death was just a dream and this Tubbo was real. And then he would die again. He would wake feeling worse than before he slept.

He didn’t sleep that often.

After a week of nothing but his own company and glimpses of Sam, Dream finally came to visit.

Tommy was lying on the floor, sweating, munching on a potato, deep in thought but nothing on his mind, when he heard the mechanisms of the lava parting and the door grinding open. He rolled his head to face the door, a little confused because Sam had already delivered his meal for the day.

When the glow of the lava ebbed, he could see Dream’s signature outfit of dark jeans and lime green sweatshirt, slouching with his half broken mask strewn over his face. He waved to Sam when he crossed to Tommy’s cell, and stood at the opposite end as the lava behind resumed its role as a mighty wall.

“Hello Tommy,” Dream said in a neutral tone. Tommy hadn’t taken his eyes off of him since he first saw him, trying to sort the mix of emotions that crashed over him. He felt a surge of anger, a fiery rage deep in his stomach, then fear, sharp and rooted in his spine. He sat up against the wall, no longer lying, but didn’t have the energy to stand before Dream.

That fear simmered into a dull ache in his throat, the settling feeling of hopelessness, of being faced with his powerless position, the only certainty in his future was how inescapable this place was. Dream’s lack of emotion confused him as well, as at any point he could be chill or explode in rage, and Tommy would have no idea what could set him off until he’s already done it. “Hello, Dream.” He ended up replying, a little off-put by his gritty voice, coarse from lack of use.

Dream switched on a sad smile, as one might make at a dog begging for treats, “How are you holding up? Sorry I haven’t visited in a few days, I’ve been busy.”

His half-assed excuse fueled Tommy’s fire, but he simply lacked the energy to blow off. It was the same shit as when he was exiled. Dream would play with his emotions, fine tuning his tone of voice to cause the most unrest within Tommy’s brain. He couldn’t stand it, being manipulated so easily, but he was helpless to stop himself. “It’s boring as fuck.” Tommy said, coughing once then wiping his upper lip and forehead. He must look like a wreck, trapped in the center of this damned volcano.

Dream cocked his head slightly, the crack in his mask elevating the pity in his eyes, “Aww, I’m sure it is boring. Now that there’s no one around for you to bother endlessly.” He stepped closer, lowering to a crouch in front of Tommy. “You know, the server has been like a thousand times better in the last week without you around to ruin everyone’s day. People building and hanging out, no one trying to start wars at every opportunity, it’s been peace all around.” Dream spoke with a sickly sweet venom dripping from his words, watching humorously as they struck Tommy’s core.

“I don’t believe you.” Tommy said, bringing his legs to his chest and holding them, despite the sweltering heat and his sticky skin.

“Now, why would I lie? Everyone is really happy, probably the happiest they’ve been since the server started. Well, everyone except you. I think it’s fair trade.” Dream laughed, enjoying the conflicted flashes of anger and sadness betrayed by Tommy’s eyes. He couldn’t think of a reply, he only justified it to himself, surely everyone thinks he dead, and they’re happy because they know he would want them to be happy.

“Oh and the best part,” Dream chided, making sure Tommy was watching at full attention, “They all know you’re in here, and no one’s visited!” He threw his head back, laughing loudly, “That proves that I’m right, everyone is happy and free now that you’re locked up, really I should have done this instead of exiling you,” he laughed again, “And maybe then, Tubbo would still be alive! It really is all your fault Tommy, all of it.”

Tommy bit his lip, begging the tears to keep at bay. Chapped from the heat, he tasted blood instantly. “That’s not true.” He said, coldly.

“It is true, Tommy. The only lie I told them was that you killed Tubbo, not me.” Dream smiled even wider in anticipation of Tommy’s reaction.

His mouth gaped in shock, “W-what? Why? I didn’t-“

“Well it was basically you that killed him, you’re the one who dragged him into your stupid disc war.”

“But I didn’t kill him!” Tommy’s voice broke, “I can’t believe you would lie! I would never hurt him!”

“Everyone in town believed it just fine.” Dream shrugged.

“But that’s not what happened!” Tommy pled, knowing that Dream always lies, that this is just another manipulation tactic, that everyone thought him dead, that he would never kill Tubbo.

“Well,” Dream shrugged again, his tone even, unarguable, “who knows what really happened during our fight? Me, you, and Tubbo, right? Maybe I offered you the discs in exchange for you to murder Tubbo? Maybe you chose that option without hesitation? Maybe I locked you here for everyone’s safety, since you would pick a stupid disc over your own friend’s life any day? Who’s to say?” He leaned closer until the mask was inches from Tommy. “That’s right, me. I get to say what did and didn’t happen.”

“You’re awful.” Tommy whimpered, “Why are you doing this?”

Dream chuckled lowly once more, and got to his feet, “Because I can, idiot.” He walked back to the exit, and pulled out a communicator to tell Sam to let him out. “Oh, and I have a feeling you might be getting a visitor or two pretty soon.” They locked eyes again, and Dream stared menacingly, “You better not tell anyone what really happened, alright? Or I will make your life hell, Tommy.” He smirked, “And I know you might be thinking, ‘Haha, right like this could get any worse,’ but trust me Tommy. It could get so much worse.” Then the door opened and the lava cleared again, allowing Dream to exit unscathed.

“Bye, Tommy.” Dream waved, but Tommy felt too tired to respond. He sank further down the wall, feeling more dejected than ever.

Everyone thought he killed Tubbo? He couldn’t stand the thought, how could he do that to his best friend? It made no sense. That, and… who else was coming to visit him?


	2. Tommy Gets a Vistor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy is surprised to see the tall boy standing at the front of his cell, stuttering over his words. Who is he playing here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how about that Ranboo lore stream huh? Anyone else cry?? Here I was, waiting around for Skeppy's Love or Host and what do I see but Ranboo performing his heart out! Trust me, I was screaming, he's a talented boy, and I think I'm just gonna officially adopt him. Enjoy the chapter! Hopefully, the next one won't take as long to write, but every time I say that, the release gets an extra week so.....

As more and more time passed, Tommy’s seemingly endless thoughts were beginning to overlay reality. Once he imagined a time many nights ago when he and Tubbo laid down on the grassy hill near their signature bench. They looked up, talking and laughing, just watching the clouds crawl by as they wasted the early evening away. After staring long enough, Tommy could peer through the obsidian ceiling, straight through the layers and layers of unbreakable stone and out into the natural sky, where the big, fluffy, clouds took their sweet time sweeping towards the east.

In the distance, he could hear the jukebox playing one of Tubbo’s tracks. He shut his eyes, wondering if Tubbo would let him have it if he asked. “Oh, it stopped,” he heard Tubbo announce, “Did you want me to replay it?”

But the disc hadn’t stopped, “What?” Tommy asked, turning over to address his friend. He was met with a black wall, with a single unlabeled clock hanging a few feet up. Right. That wasn’t actual Tubbo, just a memory of him.

He thought he should be grateful his memory was still so clear, but at the same time it hurt him deeply. At any time Tubbo was just beside him, whispering his thoughts over his shoulder, but Tommy could never reach him. He wasn’t like Ghostbur. Tubbo never answered when Tommy asked him things. He always disappeared the moment Tommy would look at him, not letting him catch even a single glimpse of his friend.

He could hear Dream too, sometimes. Reciting his crazy monologues from past encounters, reminding him of their shared experiences in exile, recounted all the lies he’s told that everyone else believed. Tommy wouldn’t even try to look at him, he would simply close his eyes to block out the unwanted thoughts. It worked some of the time. Other times he would clench his eyes and still hear the taunting echoing in his head, telling him he’s weak, that he’s lost, that he killed Tubbo, to the point of tears.

Then the clock would tick by some distance, the tears would evaporate, and he was back to imagining the sky above him. He liked the clock, actually. Before, time was a privilege he felt had been ripped from him, but after hours and hours of watching the clock spin, he found comfort in it. He supposed being trapped in a timeless void was worse than how he was now. Since, while time felt nonexistent in his cell, it was the most important thing to the outside. Time was the difference in whether mobs spawned or burned, the colors of the water and the sky, the visibility of L’Manberg’s sky lanterns. The night was beautiful and so was the day, and Tommy was content knowing those two still alternated in his absence. He could pretend the night lulled him to sleep, and the sun gave him the will to wake, even if he couldn’t see it for himself. It was enough to know.

Dream visited again in two days. Once again waving off Sam behind the door and greeting him with a neutral “hello” before sitting somewhere near him. Tommy still felt put off, like Dream were some interrogator for a crime he committed. Trying to guilt him into confessing when he was completely innocent.

“They held the funeral for Tubbo yesterday. Eret, Niki, and Fundy organizedit, said it was difficult to find a place for the reception that wasn’t blown up or burned down.” Dream said casually.

Tommy felt immediately terrible, much to Dream’s delight, at the prospect of missing his own friend’s funeral.

“Yeah, you really missed out. I gave a speech that everyone loved, talked all about his brilliant presidency and how awful you are to have taken his future away from him-“

“Stop it,” Tommy growled, “I didn’t kill Tubbo, you did.”

“Well, duh.” Dream said incredulously. “But no one else knows that, idiot.” He stared at the boy for a moment of intimidation before continuing, “Anyways, Bad baked muffins for everyone, even Phil and Techno were there. It was a real bonding moment for the server.”

Tommy’s head ached, reeling from the way Dream played with his mind. The way he talked so casually as if they were meeting for brunch, and not two feet apart in a jail cell. He closed his eyes to block Dream out, and focused on his breathing.

“Aw, what’s wrong, Tommy?” Dream cooed, “Are you sad your friends have all forgotten about you? Really, with how long you’ve been around, you’d think people would care more about your existence. It’s too bad you had to annoy literally everyone all the time, to the point where you’re own best friend had to exile you from his country! From a county you helped found! Really sucks to suck doesn’t it?” He couldn’t keep the tone for very long before he burst out in maniacal laughter, holding his mask in place as he leaned backward. When he found his composure, he sighed and got to his feet. “You really are pitiful, Tommy. I feel depressed just looking at you.”

Tommy just focused on keeping his breathing even and his eyes glued shut. He refused to give Dream what he wanted. He wouldn’t cry in front of him. Not again. But still, his eyes burned behind his eyelids, and his breathing stuttered every now and then, choking back his sobs.

“You couldn’t even buy your friends,” the masked man scoffed, “you think I don’t know about your little plea to Punz? That shit was hilarious! He’s been working for me this whole time, and you thought a little gold and diamonds would get him to help you? You’re pathetic, no amount of money is worth dealing with your annoying ass.”

Tommy clenched his jaw, forgetting how to breathe. He knew Punz was a spy for Dream, but as a mercenary, surely the highest bidder would earn his alliance. Tommy spent hours and hour mining for those ores, only for Punz to take it and laugh about it with Dream. He knew the battle with Dream would end badly, he knew Punz was his last chance, his last desperate plea for survival. He felt so stupid for thinking it would work, of course Punz wouldn’t betray Dream. He was a fucking god, no one was dumb enough to fight against him. No one but Tommy.

He heard shuffling but tried ignoring it in favor of staying collected. “Look at me, Tommy.” Dream said, and Tommy could hear he was only inches from his face, likely crouched in front of him.

He shook his head stubbornly. But then he felt two giant hands grab each side of his head, “Tommy,” he said with more force, “I told you to look at me, open your eyes.”

Hesitantly, Tommy lifted his head, eyes open now, staring conflicted into Dream’s broken mask, where only a fragment of a menacing smile and his left eye was visible.

“Don’t look so sad, Tommy. Smile for me.” Dream offered with a condescending pout. Tommy’s mouth felt too dry, too mortified for the corners to lift in any way. “I won’t leave until you smile.” Dream kept his hands on his head, tugging playfully at his cheeks with both thumbs. Tommy thought about how easily Dream could just crush his head like a grape, ending his life just like that.

All the muscles in his face trembled as he forced a smile, staring desperately at Dream to accept his fake grin.

“There he is,” Dream hummed, “See? You’re fine, Tommy. You’re doing just fine.” He stood up to leave after that. Not sparing another glance at the boy but announcing his goodbye as he crossed the pathway. Tommy watched silently until the door stopped moving, once again isolating him from everyone he cared about.

Then he let himself cry. He stared at the clock as the hot tears rolled down his face, trying to find that comfort in the passing time, but every second made him more and more of a mess, leaking snot and sweat, breathing erratic. He was getting light headed with how intense his sobs erupted. It just kept coming and coming, the endless sadness leaking from his face.

He curled up in a ball on the floor, clawing at his eyes. He couldn’t stand Dream. How sick he was to lie to everyone about Tubbo, how he took great pleasure in making Tommy feel like shit. It was maddening. Why did it have to be him? All Tommy wanted was a home to call his own, a place where he could hang with his friends and play and just spend time together. He wanted to see the world, to explore and find treasure and battle monsters. He just wanted his friends to be happy, Wilbur, Tubbo, Techno, Big Q... 

He couldn’t do anything. He tried, and he failed. And now Tubbo was dead. And now he had no one.

And now he was alone.

—

Ranboo wasn’t sure why and how he got to this point, standing in front of the giant prison, just out of view of the main entrance. It was an idea he had at some point, getting a tour from Sam, and it was compelling enough to carry out but not important enough to remember, apparently. That happened quite a lot, more than he would like.

It probably had something to do with Dream. Almost everything had something to do with Dream.

See, Ranboo had quite a few of his own problems with Dream. He didn’t know the guy personally, per se, but every once in a while, he’d hear Dream’s voice in his head, telling him awful deeds he may or may not have participated in. It didn’t help that Ranboo already doubted himself and his memory a majority of the time anyway. He tried to keep a book to help remember, but it’s not like he could just write down all the crimes he maybe possibly assisted with, he’d already been ousted as a traitor once from his memory book falling into the wrong hands, he really really didn’t want it to happen again.

He knew one thing, though. Dream always lied. Everything, no matter how big or small, how crazy, how sane, logical or reasonable, Dream lied. He always said he didn’t have a reason to lie, but by that logic he had no reason to tell the truth either. He only wants power over other people. So he was doubtful when Dream informed everyone on the server about what happened to Tommy and Tubbo. He may not have known Tommy all that well, sure they committed arson together and Ranboo sent him letters during his exile, but he was unconvinced that Tommy would go as far as murdering Tubbo, just for some dumb music disc.

Everyone else waved it off, however. He hated that people took Dream at his word so easily, despite all the harm he’s done to everyone. Don’t they remember how he turned their homes into a crater? How he constantly demanded obedience from everyone on the server? Sometimes he wondered if he really was the forgetful one.

If Sam was surprised to see him when they met up, Ranboo couldn’t tell. He did his usual thing, acting carefree and considerate, asking Sam how he’s been, showing excitement over his tour of the prison. In his head he was incredibly on edge, ever since this place was built, and Ranboo had been having his memory gaps come into question, he’d been scared shitless to think he deserved a cell here. These manic thoughts raced around as Sam led him through the building.

It was massive and unbelievably complex. There were hardly any doors, everything seemed to be activated by redstone and pistons, making each passage a mystery to where it could lead. They passed numerous typical cells, small rooms with iron bars and a locked door, but Ranboo didn’t see Tommy in any of those. He was surprised by the feeling of constant fatigue and the slow-growing heat that permeated the air the farther in they went.

“How’d you get the fatigue effect? Do beacons have that?” Ranboo asked, pulling the neck of his shirt in discomfort from the warmth of the room.

“Elder Guardians, actually. They’re hidden in the tunnels below us.” Sam told him.

Ranboo almost stopped in his tracks, “What? Don’t those spawn at the bottom of the ocean?”

“Yep,” Sam sighed, “That’s where we are, at the bottom of the ocean. It was a bitch to drain, but at least Dream pays well.”

Ranboo made a mental note of that, he would have written it down but Sam made him leave his things at the entrance. So Dream commissioned the prison? It made sense why it was so ominous and intimidating then. “Seems a little extreme to me, building this whole place just for Tommy.”

“Well, it wasn’t for him originally,” Sam clarified, “I’m not sure who it was for, but Tommy’s imprisonment was a change of plans.”

That was strange. Not that Dream would keep the usage of the prison a secret, that he assumed. But that Tommy wasn’t the original inmate. So, who was? Ranboo didn’t expect to know anytime soon, but knowing what questions to ask in the future helped anyway.

They approached a door, more massive than the rest, almost like the door to a vault. Ranboo really had no idea why Dream considered Tommy to be so valuable, why he’d reserve the most protected and inescapable room in the prison for a child, hardly younger than he was.

He knew that Tommy had a fire burning inside of him, that alighted when he had to fight for what he valued. Ranboo saw it the first day he met Tommy, when he was asked to burn down George’s tower. He watched Tommy laugh as he sprinted through the flames, trying to pose Niki in front of the carnage so she could take the blame. And that time when Tommy and Techno snuck into L’Manberg with invisibility potions. The two wore their boots when they spoke to him, which was nice because Ranboo had a hard enough time talking with normal people let alone invisible people. Even without expression, Ranboo could feel the excitement coming in waves from the younger boy. He would bounce on the heels of his disembodied shoes, ready for a fight or confrontation, and while the stakes were high for those two, Tommy’s long exile had riled him up for a challenge.

He imagined the boy took on the world with that sort of energy, and was sure it fueled him during his battle with Dream. But it wasn’t enough.

That spark was nowhere to be found when Ranboo finally laid eyes on Tommy. Sam has given him twenty minutes of privacy, sending him off with a wave as the giant doors closed and lava cascaded behind hi

Tommy was standing in a corner, staring at him inquisitively. “Ranboo?” He said, “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see the prison.” Ranboo shrugged, it was a half-truth, he was incredibly curious about the giant structure, but he also wanted more info on Dream. “And to see you,” he added.

“Me?” Tommy asked, moving to a spot on the wall and taking a seat on the floor. “I’m honored, Ranboo, really. But why?”

“Why... yeah, that’s a good question,” Ranboo thought it over. He was here on a whim, looking for answers to his seemingly endless questions. Did Tommy have those answers? “Tommy, why did Dream put you in here?”

“I don’t fucking know, Dream is a crazy bitch. He hates me for some reason,” Tommy grumbled with his arms crossed. “He always wants to win so he acts like some god telling everyone what to do. I think he’s just jealous, you know, that I refuse to listen to him.” Some dark look flashed through Tommy’s eyes, too quick for Ranboo to read. The younger boy glanced up to him, “Have you ever even spoken to the guy? He hardly shuts up about himself, the dickhead.”

“N-no,” Ranboo looked away, stuttering. He sure as hell wasn’t about to admit he hears Dream’s voice in his head. “He spoke... at me, once. During that festival you and Techno snuck into.”

Tommy frowned, “Didn’t he call you a traitor?”

“Well, y-yes, he knew I was helping you and Techno-“

“How did he know that?” Tommy blurted out, his gaze growing more distrustful by the second as Ranboo fumbled over his words. “Were you spying for him?”

“No! I wouldn’t- well, I don’t remember. I don’t think I would.” That wasn’t the right answer, Ranboo thought, as Tommy glared at his confusion.

“You are acting really weird right now, memory boy. How would he know you betrayed Tubbo if you weren’t a spy?”

Ranboo was sweating bullets, already overheated by the lava surrounding the cell. Why couldn’t he just be convincing, he truly didn’t remember, right?“He- he got my memory book, I don’t- I always have it on me but then I woke up and it was gone and Dream said I gave it to him but I would never-“

“I thought you said you’ve never spoken to Dream? What the fuck, man. Are you lying to me? Did Dream tell you to come here just to fuck with my head?” Tommy bit at him, becoming agitated.

Ranboo felt his chest swell with terror, “What? No! I- no, I never talked to- well, I don’t remember ever talking to him, I just-“ He cut himself off, grabbing at the neck of his shirt as if it were trying to strangle him. He really hated high-stress situations, they made him forget things, they made him panic. He really really hated how the cell walls were so similar to his panic room. How if he tried to listen hard enough he would hear Dream whispering to him. His other hand tugged at his hair, trying to force his mind back into reality, begging him to keep it together. He hid his face while he breathed, not knowing what reaction Tommy was giving.

He didn’t see Tommy’s torn expression, alternating between betrayal and empathy. The young boy feeling that sense of panic, knowing that feeling followed Dream wherever he wandered.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.” Ranboo choked out, “I want to be in control of my role in all this. I want to take down Dream.” He felt frozen, unable to meet eyes with the other boy.

“No one can take down Dream.” Tommy responded, his voice low. He didn’t sound angry, just... defeated. Ranboo allowed himself to glance towards him, still breathing shallowly but trying to calm down.

Tommy’s cold eyes of understanding gave his chest relief. That’s right, Dream was the reason everyone was miserable. And Dream was the most untouchable man alive.Ranboo nodded, watching with interest when Tommy got to his feet, coming closer until he was right in front of him. He looked around as if someone could be listening, and leaned in until his mouth was right by Ranboo’s head.

Tommy whispered, with a hand resting on the other’s shoulder, about the underground base Dream had brought him and Tubbo to, the day of their fight. He described what Dream had told him, had shown him, the walls full of frames and displays for the most personally valued items on the server, how he planned to steal them all to hold power over everyone. He didn’t mention how the three of them entered, but only two exited.

“There’s a portal in the Nether, if you head due east from the one near the community house, that’s how we got from there to the prison.” With that said, Tommy stepped away, at arm’s reach. “There’s no way people would continue following him, if you can somehow get everyone to that room without him knowing.”

“But how?” Ranboo asked, pleading, “Why would anyone trust me?” He wasn’t someone to be trusted. He knew all anyone had to do what ask something of him and he would do it. That’s why it was so believable that Dream could’ve used him in his schemes.

“I believe in you, big man.” Tommy offered with a squeeze on his shoulder, then stepped back again as they heard the eerie sound of the door mechanism opening, and the lava receding outside. Slowly, Sam was revealed behind the mass of orange death, holding his bow waiting for Tommy to make a wrong move. But he just sat back against the wall, giving a wave to the guard and to Ranboo, who said goodbye and walked away to his freedom.

While Tommy, left behind, watched the walls that enclosed him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I think from now on I'll stay with Tommy's POV because I was hitting some serious barriers trying to steer the conversation to where I wanted it. I just want to skip straight to the angst!!! Who cares how they get there??? How do I keep my interest in the story if no one is crying!!?? Keep in mind, college just started up again, so procrastination is already hitting every part of my life, hobbies, school work, sleep, eating, etc. etc. ADHD is a real bitch, y'all. 
> 
> Anyway, even if I don't respond, comments are very much appreciated!!!! All I can say is the next chapter is gonna need a few content warnings... >:)
> 
> See ya! (^-^)7


	3. So You Had a Bad Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty long chapter and deals with some heavy themes so I'm adding a content warning right here and now.
> 
> *** This chapter contains graphic depictions of child abuse, please read at your own discretion ***
> 
> Please please remember, all the events described in this story are purely fictional and of course I would never endorse this kind of behavior in real life, I just really like fucking up my fictional characters.
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy this angsty boi

Tommy, Tubbo, Quackity, and Fundy had a meeting today. 

The four boys approached the scaffold, the makeshift staircase to the top of the obsidian wall that surrounded the entire country of L’Manberg. It was a sight for sore eyes compared to the colorful town, the stalls, the lanterns, the houses adored with flags and flowers. Dream stood waiting on a platform, unnervingly still, geared with full netherite armor and a shield painted with a cartoonish smile that mirrored the mask he wore at all times. Each step closer frayed Tommy’s nerves, even as he repeated the plan over and over again, needing the confirmation and support from his boys. He was too nervous to see how Tubbo avoided his eyes, how he held his lips in a grim line. 

They clambered onto the platform, Tubbo stepping in front of the armored tyrant as Tommy and the others stayed behind, Tommy willing his legs to stop shaking. It was going to be okay. Tubbo would stick up for him. They would escape to Techno’s house and he’d help them. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. 

“Have you come to a decision?” Dream asked, nonchalant as always. That stupid smile on his mask made Tommy’s blood boil. He hated it. He hated that the mask gave him such a clear advantage, being able to act aloof and stoic no matter how he actually felt. Meanwhile Tommy’s eyes always betrayed his thoughts, though he would never consider hiding his emotions away like some coward. He let Dream know this, loud and proud, calling him bitch boy while Fundy and Quackity laughed. 

Tubbo wasn’t laughing. He refused to look away from Dream while they jested and Dream did the same, completely ignoring the taunts from Tommy and the others. In a pause for breath Tubbo announced in a commanding tone Tommy only ever heard him use while standing at the podium, “I have decided...” Tommy bounced on his heels, ready for a fight, he didn’t care how outmatched they were compared to Dream, he was ready to throw hands, to run with his buddies, to live to fight another day, to-

“To exile Tommyinnit.” Tubbo finished, finally turning to look Tommy in the eyes, his face too serious for his liking. 

“What?” Fundy and Quackity said in unison, their jaws agape.

“What are you saying, Tubbo? What about our plan, what about Techno?” Tommy asked, astounded by the chill emitting from his best friend’s stare. “We can’t give up now! Not without the discs!”

“Enough about the discs, man. Right now you are the greatest threat to this country. You constantly antagonize Dream and you never listen to my orders! If I am to be president of L’Manberg, then I have to maintain my authority. I just want us to live in peace.” Tubbo said, more angry than Tommy had ever seen him before. He was at a loss for words. 

“Tubbo,” Quackity added, unsure of his words, “you know, you’re sounding a lot like Schlatt right now.”

Tubbo ignored him, “Tommy, I have given you so many chances to fix your mistakes, we’ve sacrificed so much to get where we are-“

“But the discs, Tubbo!” Tommy pled, “We may have gotten this far but we still don’t have the discs!” 

Tubbo, furious in his steps, marched up to Tommy, forcing him closer to the edge, “I don’t care about the stupid discs! You are selfish, Tommy! That’s all you care about! You are so willing to let this country burn to the ground for useless items, and I just don’t care anymore!” Tubbo jabbed a finger into Tommy’s chest, now only a foot away from the ledge. Then he stepped back, eyes locked on his friend. “Dream,” he said, “please escort Tommy out of L’Manberg.”

Dream voiced his agreement and suddenly he was right in front of Tommy, shoving the boy with his shield off the tall obsidian wall. Tommy rolled when he hit the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs and he struggled to get back to his feet so he could fight. That struggle dissipated when he saw Dream had jumped from the wall to follow, landing on his feet with a heavy thud, Tommy’s eyes level with the man’s axe. He looked away, glaring at Tubbo in disbelief, “You can’t do this, Tubbo! Why are you doing this? Guys!” He pleaded to the other two, “Guys, do something!”

Quackity and Fundy said nothing, just stood there, staring with eyes full of pity. 

“Tommy, I hereby exile you from L’Manberg. You are no longer allowed to step foot on this land.” Tubbo commanded. 

“Tubbo-“

“Let’s go, Tommy,” Dream shoved him again, his weapon at the ready in case Tommy disobeys, “I’m sure you don’t want to die today, let’s get a move on.”

Tommy stumbled back, but couldn’t move on his own, “Please, wait! Can’t I just say goodbye?” 

“No,” Dream said bluntly, pushing him with his shield until he walked. Tommy hated how he could hear him smiling, he wanted to slash that smug grin off his face but he was totally overpowered. His flimsy iron and diamond were nothing compared to full netherite, not to mention the god-tier enchantments he probably had. 

Time passed quickly after that. Tommy trailed behind Dream, sad and confused as to why his friend would turn on him like that. Ghostbur joined at some point, they rode in a boat together and sailed to nowhere. He protested, wanting nothing more than to go back to his dirt hut and laugh with his friends, but any argument was shut down with a swift threat of death by Dream. They docked and walked inland, nothing recognizable around, no sign of others for miles. Tommy didn’t just feel far from his friends, he felt like he was on a different planet, the echoes of dark thoughts telling him he would never see them again. They were far enough away that Dream could kill him and none would be the wiser. At least he had Ghostbur, he thought, so he wouldn’t die alone. 

Dream build a shabby dirt house and laid a bed, forcing Tommy to set his spawn. Tommy still muttered a weak “no,” but the reality of the situation numbed his fervor. Ghostbur kept up his stupid enthusiasm, believing this whole ordeal to be a vacation and Tommy hated him for his ignorance. 

“Well, could be worse,” Ghostbur said as he inspected the shack, “at least we still have our items.” 

“That’s true,” Tommy agreed, “I think we’ll be alright, Wilbur.”

Dream turned, reminded of something, “Oh yeah,” he said, digging a hole a few blocks deep at Tommy’s feet, “Empty your pockets. Now.”

That was the final punch for Tommy. “What?” He said, incredulously. “No, you can’t be serious. I’m not doing that.”

“Tommy,” Dream warned him, lifting his axe slightly. 

“No!” The boy whined, taking a step back, “I won’t do it, you can’t just take all my things!”

Dream didn’t give another warning. With a swift swing he thrust the axe towards Tommy, hitting the skin right below the sleeve of his armor, planting it an inch and a half deep. A pained gasp escaped Tommy, and he quickly folded, removing his armor and tossing it into the hole, then taking everything he carried and doing the same. Ghostbur had already cleared his inventory. “Good,” Dream said, pulling out a stick of dynamite and placing it over the hole. 

Tommy wanted to protest, but the pain of his wound shut him up, so instead he watched in horror as Dream lit the explosive and he was left with nothing put the clothes on his back. His arm was bleeding heavily, staining his t-shirt an even darker red, a reminder that Dream never bluffed when he threatened. 

Dream left shortly after, leaving behind Ghostbur and Tommy with some pity food, which Tommy promptly burned. While Ghostbur patched his wound in a makeshift bandaid, he found himself lacking in things to say, looking around in confusion. He kept trying to find landmarks or anything that could point him back home, as the air spilled from his lungs in long sighs. They split up to collect food and wood at noon. 

Tommy felt a strange nostalgia, punching a tree with his hands, but not the reminiscent kind. He felt bitter, shameful about this ‘new beginning’ routine. He hated that whole process, always had, spending hours collecting and grinding, he much preferred just borrowing from whoever was near, someone who’d been there long enough to have plenty to spare.To have nothing and no one to take from, it really solidified the void of loneliness in the heart of his chest. 

He jumped when he spotted a familiar figure in the shade of the forest, recognizing him as Sam. He wasn’t sure what to say, did Dream know he was there? Would Dream even allow him to talk with people from the SMP? He knew Sam worked for Dream pretty often, building things for him. He couldn’t decide how to act, but Sam had closed their distance while he mused. With a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, Sam said, “I’m sorry, there’s not much I can do. If you need anything, my house is not too far from here. No one knows about it.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Tommy replied. A tiny ball of warmth filled that void for a moment, a small spark of hope that he could still connect with other people. That he wasn’t truly alone, that he never would be. 

Sam nodded, removing his hand. He turned to leave but stopped after a step. “But don’t forget,” he said, “you have to wake up.”

Tommy frowned, confused, “What?” He said. 

“I said, wake up.”

—

His eyes burned with tears when he awoke on the floor of his obsidian cell, Sam in his typical warden outfit standing over him. “Jesus, Tommy, you look awful,” he said, a look of concern painted on his features. “Are you doing alright?”

Tommy got to his knees, wincing at the ache in his bones from sleeping on such a rough surface. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he slept in a bed. “No, Sam,” he replied, irritably, “I’ve been in these same shitty clothes for a month now, without a bath or a bed. How could I be alright?”

“It’s only been two weeks...” Sam muttered, eyeing the boy cautiously. 

“Whatever.” Tommy hauled himself to the cauldron, splashing some water on his face and peering down at his own reflection. Sam was right, he looked like he’d been through hell. His hair lacked any structure, sticking up in odd places and glued to his neck and face in others. He had dark bags under his blue eyes, eyes that seemed grayer than he’d ever seen them before. 

He had his gaze locked with his double when Sam spoke up again, “You know, I really thought you were a good kid, Tommy. Sure, you’re annoying and a bit irritable sometimes, but I truly believed you’d grow out of it. Especially after the exile.” Tommy heard the clank of Sam’s armored boots walking behind him, making his way to the exit. He paused and said, “I never expected you to betray Tubbo like that. I can’t imagine you’d find a stupid music disc more important than the life of your friend.”

Tommy gripped the rim of the cauldron with iron strength, ignoring the way his knuckles shook and glowed white from the effort. “That’s not-“ Tommy choked, clenching his dark eyes shut. He wanted so badly to tell the truth it made him nauseous, but then he’d hear the echo of Dream’s threat, afraid of what could happen to him, of how Dream could possibly make this hell worse. He bit his lower lip to keep his mouth shut until it bled.

“What?” Sam asked, turning slightly, intrigued by Tommy’s protest. 

Tommy gulped down his conflicted emotions, slowly but surely meeting Sam’s curious gaze. “Nothing,” he breathed, “is more important than Tubbo.”

Sam stood still for a moment longer, a few feet from the wall of lava at the exit. Tommy watched the orange tendrils of Sam’s fire resistance effect waft from his person, no doubt the reason he could traverse through the dense magma unscathed. He wasn’t sure if Sam would reply, but either way, the guard got a message on his communicator so he pulled up his wrist to read. “Dream is coming to visit,” he announced, “I’ll see you again in an hour.”

“Bye, Sam.” Tommy muttered as Sam entered into the orange abyss, each limb disappearing slowly as he swam in the hot liquid, until it swallowed him whole.

He stood watching even after the man left, letting the image of the bright lava burn into his retinas. He really didn’t want to see Dream. His hands were still shaking from his memories, the nightmare so vivid he thought he’d been sent back in time. Like he’d been forced to relive his most terrible moments at the will of some sick god. He turned in a semicircle, instinctively trying to find something to distract himself, so he wouldn’t be thinking about these things. But of course, he was trapped in this tiny cell, with nothing of interest to him. The only way to pass this endless time was to sleep, and he surely didn’t want to do that again, afraid of what other memories his brain would conjure. That, or watch the clock. Like he did every other day. 

He could feel this sickness creeping up his stomach, slowly like vines twisting up a tree trunk. Not like a cold, but a retaliation from his own brain for the lack of stimuli. Or maybe the diet of only raw potatoes was the cause. He wandered to the wall where he sat most hours, sliding down to the ground, still dreadfully tired despite just waking up. Two weeks was long enough to drain his muscles, to pale his skin, and with a hand over his diaphragm, he was unnerved by the feeling of the outline of his rib cage. 

He was exhausted. His mind ached with his heavy thoughts, wondering how he ended up in his state, why it had to be him. Dream was the one who deserved to be in prison. Dream should be the one rotting away in a cell, clinging to life with the desperate hope that he’ll manipulate someone into letting him out. 

But why did that thought make him feel guilty? Dream was a menace to everybody on the server, holding the things they love dear over their heads just to control them. Did Dream have any hold on Tommy? Now that Tubbo was dead? Surely he did, or Tommy wouldn’t be here. What use did Dream have for him to be alive? What use did Tommy have to keep himself alive?

No, no. Those weren’t the kind of thoughts he wanted to have right now.He needed to steel himself for when Dream came to visit. He didn’t want that man having any control over him or his emotions any more. He’d had enough. The resolve to continue fighting, to never give into Dream, gave him a small hope. A small flame that alighted his nerves. 

He waited, watching the lava until Dream’s arrival, determined to fight in whatever way he could. 

—-

Tommy could tell Dream was off the moment he set eyes on the him. The mask stood as blank as ever but the man moved like he was walking on burning coals, very unlike his usual blasé demeanor. He still seemed laid back, but in a way that revealed he was trying too hard. Though he was far, Tommy could see Sam gaze at the back of Dream, a troubled look on his face. Dream didn’t sit as the wall behind him fell, he stood with his back hunched awkwardly, his shoulders strained and knees straight. Tommy couldn’t tell what was going on in his head but the man definitely wasn’t happy. 

“Rough day, huh, big man?” Tommy pressed lightly, trying to ease the mood. He felt so small sitting while Dream towered over him. He pondered standing at his equal, but figured Dream needed the moment of dominance or he’d explode at Tommy. 

The grit of Dream’s voice made him shiver, “I want to know why Sam asked me if you really killed Tubbo.” A look of panic washed over Tommy’s face, as Dream clenched and unclenched his fists monotonously. 

“What? I don’t-“ Tommy attempted to respond, cut short by Dream’s rigid steps toward him. 

“You weren’t _lying_ to him, were you Tommy?” His pace was slow and threatening, his shadow creeping over Tommy as his figure blocked the light. “You remember what I said about telling people _lies_ , right?” He punctuated his words with each step, until he was standing over Tommy, effectively trapping him against the wall and the floor. 

“N-no,” Tommy stuttered, shaking. Any confidence he had mustered earlier had dissipated in an instance.“I didn’t tell him anything,” he bit his tongue, his own words feeling unsure in his mouth. He had his knees pulled to his chest as Dream crouched lower and leaned in. 

“And Ranboo too,” Dream said, completely ignoring Tommy’s rebuttal, “He’s been asking around about me, trying to get information, to see where people’s allegiances lie.” His mask was an inch from Tommy, whose head was painfully backed against the wall. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, huh?”

Tommy’s heartbeat was racing in his chest, he was so scared but he still remarked snidely, “M-maybe everyone is getting sick of your shit, Dream. Ever think of that?”

He yelped when a hand grasped the neck of his shirt, balling the fabric in a tight grip. “You wanna run that by me again, Tommy?” Dream said, his voice barren of any emotion. 

“I said no one likes you, Dream! You’re just a bully, all you do is boss people around.” Tommy felt his resolve return for the moment, high on the adrenaline his fear granted him. “They’re sick of it, Dream. Sick of you!”

“That’s it,” Dream growled, shooting up to his feet, pulling Tommy by the hem of his shirt up with him. “I think you need to learn not to run your mouth.”

Tommy tried to question but was cut off when Dream raised his other hand in a fist. He swung, and it connected with Tommy’s cheek, just above his jaw. Tommy’s head recoiled, his eyes growing wide in fear. “W-wait, stop-“ he spoke but couldn’t get the words out when Dream hit him again, this time square in the face, right on the bridge of his nose. His head snapped back against the wall and stars danced across his vision. His legs trembled as Dream pulled him back, rearing up to punch again. 

“Anything else you want to say?” Dream said, holding out Tommy at arms length. Tommy had his hands in front of him, conflicted between trying to free his shirt and protect his face. 

The boy grunted, tasting blood in his mouth. “Bet you feel real strong beating up a child, big man.”

Dream laughed, bitterly, “It’s your fault this is happening, Tommy. You need to learn your place.”

“Fuck you.” Tommy spat at him, marking his white mask with a splatter of red and Dream reacted in an instant. He followed through with his fist, right into the side of Tommy’s nose. Tommy cried out in pain, trying to block his face with his hand while yelling at Dream to stop, but the man paid him no mind. Dream punched the side of his head, aimed for his jaw when Tommy covered his eyes, then near his ear when his head turned from the whiplash. 

Nothing seemed to work to stop him once he started up again. Tommy could only feel his ears ringing as he held up his forearms, and when that failed to protect him he began swinging wildly towards Dream’s hands and face. He felt the ceramic mask slide away, allowing Tommy a glimpse of Dream’s face for the first time. Time stood still for the moment as they locked eyes, and Tommy was frightened at the clarity of the green, revealing every bit of manic hatred Dream felt towards him. He had a sick grin, clearly enjoying this moment of power, and some wide, jagged scars that stretched across his whole face. 

For a second, Tommy knew he was looking into the eyes of a person, just like him, someone with family, friends, passions and scars. Someone who had been broken at some point, and now his only goal was to break others. Why this was the moment Tommy could see the human in the man beating him, he had no idea. But now, over all the pain and the fear, Tommy could only feel pity. 

He stopped fighting back, letting Dream throw his punches over and over again, he instead held onto Dream’s hoodie like a lifeline. He let his body sag, releasing the strength in his knees and sinking to the ground. He could feel a wetness start to drip down his face, but whether he was crying or bleeding he wasn’t sure.

Dream was breathing heavily when he released Tommy, worked up by the adrenaline and effort. Tommy let his arms fall and his head hang, already numb to all of the bruises that littered his face. Stars danced in the corners of his vision, and the ringing in his ears was fading back to the sounds of Dream breathing and the bubbling of the lava nearby. 

Dream straightened his back, glaring down at Tommy, “I think you owe me an apology,” he said. 

“I’m sorry,” Tommy replied without any hesitation, looking up into the hate-filled eyes that watched him. Dream’s face was still visible, red and sweating, his mask askew over one of his ears. He looked angry still, but content with Tommy’s obedience. 

“Good,” he said. “Think about that next time you want to talk back to me.” He cleared his throat and fixed his mask back over his features, pulling out his communicator to text Sam. “And remember, if you tell anyone about this, or Tubbo, or _anything_ -“

“I won’t,” Tommy supplied quickly, pleading, “I promise, I won’t.”

“Good boy,” Dream cooed, ruffling Tommy’s hair like he was petting a puppy, “Glad to see you’re learning. I don’t have to be mean all the time, Tommy. You just have earn my kindness.”

Tommy never replied, he stared blankly into space, trying to escape his own body to avoid feeling the swelling of his face. The bruises burned and pulsed with blood to the rhythm of his heartbeat. He didn’t feel like crying, he felt numb and empty. He was still kneeling from where Dream had dropped him, with no intention of getting to his feet anytime soon. 

For some reason Tommy imagined Wilbur, when he was still alive, harping to him about the battle they lost, back when fighting for L’Manberg’s independence was their only goal. Fundy was pacing the small hideout, something Tommy had dug in secret for a time like this. “C’mon Wilbur, what do we do? We have to do something, we can’t just give up now.” Fundy pled to their leader. “You have to have some secret plan.”

“No,” Wilbur said, dejected, “No, I don’t. We’re outnumbered and outmatched. We have no choice but to surrender.”

“We can’t surrender!” Tubbo exclaimed, at Tommy’s right, marks of blood and gunpowder stained into his uniform, “Then all of this would have been for nothing!”

“There’s nothing we can do, Tubbo.” Wilbur hung his head, feeling at a loss, feeling the weight of the casualties this war had caused. Eret’s betrayal, the destruction of their homes, Dream’s taunting. 

It was just a memory but Tommy could hear the heartache, and he realized why this appeared to him now of all times. 

“No,” he said, both in the present and the past, “I won’t let Dream win. I’ll fight him, one v one, I’ll win us our independence.”

That was night before he lost to Dream, taking an arrow to his face. He could still feel the path the arrow had taken through his skull, carving the tunnel that led to Dream’s successful execution. He had sacrificed himself to a losing battle, all odds against him, for his brother, for their country. 

Is that all he is now? A sacrifice? Was he only a martyr of Dream’s torment? Was someone else safe and happy because Dream got to lay out his aggression on him instead?

Would Tubbo still be alive if Tommy gave himself willingly when Dream fought them? Was he to blame, for everything, from the very beginning?

Maybe Dream was right all along. 

Tommy did kill Tubbo. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God what a fucking chapter this was. I had to write and rewrite so much of this because getting the exact level of angst I needed was a far more difficult task than I originally thought. even now, I'm not super happy with the ending of this chapter. But alas it’s done. 
> 
> Contrary to my original intentions, I believe I have an ending in mind for this story, and (you didn’t hear it from me but) it may or may not have a semi-happy ending! Shocker, right? Considering the title? We love plot twists in this house. 
> 
> Also can we appreciate Techno’s egg stream- how Bad literally tried to kidnap a child in front of two very powerful and clear-minded (for the most part) adults? He’s my fav I swear, although I would murder him for trying to manipulate my son into joining his cult >:( 
> 
> I don’t know when the next chapter will come out. Though I don’t believe the violence will get any worse than it already is, if that anyone’s concern. It was stressful enough trying to write something like this without just being like “then he beat the child” like I gotta spice it up and make it realistic and stuff and that means more time devoted to visualizing the actiony stuff and that just results in some hella strange dreams for me so 
> 
> I'm gonna go ahead and say I only see about two more chapters for this fic, I'll make the proper decision once I write the next one
> 
> Thank you again for reading! Comments are loved and appreciated, stay safe everyone ^-^


	4. The Phoenix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well ummmmm so tommy's dead in canon sooooo... crab rave?
> 
> dont mind me im just over here crying because i am 100% certain that ranboo indirectly murdered him and that shit is not gonna weigh well on him thats for sure
> 
> fucking fuck dream dude, killing a child like that, fucking rude, the nerve of some people -_-
> 
> give it up for ghostinnit tho! cant wait to see how thats gonna turn out, i hope phantommy and ghostbur get along uwu (also holy fuck how is dadza gonna deal with two out of three dead children thats fucked up man, I better see some tears goddammit, i know for a fact that man aint afraid to cry on stream)
> 
> anywhom this chapter took forever, it was going to go in a completely different direction but I decided against it because it was even making me uncomfortable, perhaps that branch can be on a different, more anonymous account
> 
> oh and remember how i said the violence in the last chapter was going to be the worst of it? i may have lied, there's a load of shit in this one, please let me know if you think the rating should be changed, i dont want to upset anyone although I've been pretty explicitly clear about the amount of violence from the tags i think
> 
> enjoy >:)

Tommy couldn’t tell you how many hours had passed before he moved from his spot. He had been laying on the ground in the same way Dream had left him that day, reeling in his mind over the pain of his bruises and the memory of his beating, spending some hours crying or letting the blood in his mouth soak into his sleeves. He would panic at every stray sound of the magma churning, horrified that Sam would come back to his cell and confront him with his condition or worse, confront Dream.

When his clock displayed the moon hanging far above in the sky, he finally started to get to his feet. His muscles screamed in protest, aching from being curled in for so long. All he could feel in his face was the constant throbbing, the sweat that stuck to his wounds and washed the dirty blood down to his chin. He hauled up to the cauldron, leaning heavily on the basin to peer over the water’s surface as a mirror.

He looked like shit, frankly. The trails of bloody sweat marked him with horizontal tiger stripes, the left side of his face looking more purple than the pale skin he was used to. His left eye was half-lidded and swollen, with an open cut on his cheek, his eyebrow, and a clotted one on his lower lip. The bruising spread over his nose and down to his jawline, painting the entire area in blotches of purple and blue and yellow. Nothing seemed broken, his nose was a little bent but that might just be the swelling. If anyone were to comment on this look, he’d reply with, “You should have seen the other guy.”

But of course, no one would see these injuries. No one could see them. If anyone saw him, they’d know instantly he couldn’t do this to himself, surely someone would connect it to Dream, and try to confront him. Then Dream would blame Tommy and make his life even more of a hell. Tommy refused to let anyone know about this. It just wasn’t plausible, not without retaliation from Dream as well.

Tommy knew there was only one way to fix this, to erase what Dream did to him. He looked over at the glaring lava, feeling its intimidating heat from across the room. He would have to reset. To respawn. To kill himself.

See, on this server death has two different sets of consequences. A trivial death results in a respawn at your most recent spawn point, healing your hunger and life and regenerating any wounds. The only thing that would remain was a scar. Trivial deaths are just that; trivial. They don’t matter. He’d died enough times this way, stupidly falling into ravines, getting snuck up on by a creeper, losing to a friendly spar or game. That sort of death was just part of life, part of the adventure.

Then there’s the real death, a canon death. You die for real if someone kills you with malice and intent. Three was the number Dream described when he first arrived to the server, only three canon lives before you can’t come back. That’s why Tubbo was gone forever. He had lost his last life to Dream.

Tommy only had one life left too, but that didn’t matter to him because right now, he only needed to waste a trivial death to rid his features of the evidence of Dream. Something else to look forward to, in a fucked up kind of way, was the reset on his persistent hunger. He’d grown sick of the daily meal of raw potatoes quite early on in his sentence, and now disposed of the spuds immediately once Sam left the cell. It was a weak protest, but every feral noise his stomach made was another victory against the establishment.

He felt his resolve to respawn lead his feet to the waterfall of magma at the front of his cell. It was an odd angle, staring straight ahead at the pulsating heat, though he still was reminded of his exile, standing on the edge of the netherrack platform, looking down at the sea of yellow. He felt then, not exactly compelled, but indifferent. That numbness scared him, made him want to act recklessly- those single-width bridges a few dozen meters above death only a caution of the past.

“ _Not yet,”_ Dream had told him.

Now the lava was inches from his face, it’s palpable heat causing his whole body to sweat, it dried out his eyes and threatened to melt them. His wounds felt miles away, overcome by the molten rock’s constant waves of fiery air that hung on his body like a second skin. He shivered, triggering his spine to shake uncontrollably. He suddenly felt light-headed and nauseated, his vision tilting as he leaned against the searing hot obsidian wall.

Holy shit, he was scared. Not just of the pain of dying in such a way, but at the thought that his last death would be permanent. Surely, as long as his intentions weren’t to actually end his life, he would be alright, right? He was killing himself, but he wanted to come back right after.

He still wanted to live.

He wanted to keep living.

But staring into the face of death, he felt so unsure. What if this was the end? Why did he need to stay here anyway? It would be so easy to make this the last one, to erase his mortal existence and go to wherever Tubbo was. The only one who would care was Dream, that much was evident. Sam was just following orders and Ranboo... he would forget eventually. Tommy doubted the half-enderman would care for long, he could finally move on with his life without Tommy in the picture, too.

That was it. No one else had visited him. Everyone else had moved on without him already, just like in exile. His death wouldn’t change a thing.

And living here, in this prison, was hardly living anyway. He would die of starvation or sickness or something in no time. The only one who would notice would be Sam.

The only person who would care was Dream.

Dream cared about him... that’s what he said, right? That he needed Tommy alive...

But why? Why did he care? Why would Dream go as far as murdering his best friend in front of him? Why did Dream lock him away instead of killing him right then and there? Tommy refused to believe that Dream cared about him. Dream took everything he loved away from him, Dream beat him and betrayed him and made him think that he cared. He hated Dream. And Dream...

...would be disappointed if Tommy died.

Fuck, why was this so hard? It was never this difficult before, those fleeting thoughts of falling from the bridges in the nether, building that desperate tower over the pit that was Logstedshire, positioning himself in front of Dream’s axe to protect Tubbo; he had no problem considering his life as practically worthless! So why couldn’t he step into the magma?

Breathing heavy, head and back against the sidewall, he reached a shaky hand out towards the source of heat, like grasping for a lifesaver as he drowned, like cupping a falling stream after months without water, he dipped his fingertips into the lava. Immediately he cried out, pulling his hand back, legs weak and pulse skyrocketing as he watched the horror that the magma reduced his digits to. He was quaking so bad he could hardly focus on his blur of a hand, just barely making out the missing segments, the melting of his skin, where his fingernails hung by tiny threads, where blood dripped from the cauterized tips. He could see the top of a white bone jetting where his middle fingertip used to be, it made him sick. Regardless of his starved state his stomach still threatened to spew its contents.

He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t subject his entire body to that... but what other choice did he have? He couldn’t possibly explain away his bruises without outing Dream, and now he had a hand with significantly less segments on his fingers than before.

He had to. He had to. He had to. Just- just lean into it. Fall into the lava. It’ll last one second. Just do it. He had to. He had to. He had to. He had to. He had to. He had to. There was no other choice. He held his burned and numb hand to his chest, letting the blood sink into the other bloodstains. He had to do it. He had to die. He had to respawn. He had to. He had to. He had to.

Tommy fell forward. The pain was instantaneous. In a moment his entire body was surrounded in the deadly molten fire, his hair fried, he could feel his skin melt away, his clothes catch fire then burn into his melting skin, his eyes burst like grapes and drained back into his skull. He opened his mouth to scream, overwhelmed in the sensation of his body being deconstructed, but that only alighted his mouth. The teeth in his jaw burned like hot coals, liquifying his gums, tearing apart his hollow cheeks. He begged for death to take him, to end this suffering he submitted himself to.

One by one, his limbs blinked out of existence as his nerves burned away, and all he could feel was the lava pounding into his skull, clawing into the bone to reach his brain. He had nothing left, he had dissolved completely in the molten rock. He was nothing but a floating brain drowning in a volcano. A sharp dagger of pain crowned his head, shooting through any nerves left struggling to survive and it all went black.

When he awoke from his respawn, the first thing Tommy did was vomit violently on the ground, dropping to his hands and kneeling in the bile. His entire body still burned like it was on fire, his skin crawling with the feeling of melting alive. He cried in his own sick, shaking uncontrollably, in disbelief that he could still be alive, that he could still function after that nightmare, that his face and body weren’t charred or dissolved.

He gazed at his shaking hands, doubting their existence, he still expected the skin to peel away and reveal his ivory bones, but all that he saw were patches of white skin, paler than normal and raised ever so slightly where he was first burned. He stumbled over to the cauldron, staring into his reflection, still half expecting a skeleton to stare back. But sure enough, he only saw his face, clean and restored back to health, for the most part. He had two scars on his eyebrow and his chin, the only remnants of Dream’s hand, but that seemed so insignificant now after what he just went through. There were more patches of white as well, scattered across his face and leading down his neck. It was the same on his arms, legs, chest, and probably his back too, like a quilted patchwork of skin and burn scars.

A shaken sigh left his mouth, his adrenaline fading back to the growing numbness he was accustomed to. It was over now, he had done it, he got rid of his wounds all without anyone knowing.

He hoped Dream would be proud of him.

—-

“Holy shit.”

Dream’s amazement didn’t go unnoticed by Tommy. He saw the older man’s wide grin bordering on creepy when he caught sight of Tommy’s nonexistent wounds. Tommy looked away, embarrassed at the attention, his mind yelling for him to get away but fuck did he yearn for this moment.

Dream was standing in front of him, Tommy’s back to the obsidian wall, unsure if his shaky legs could hold him up any longer. The mask was on but Tommy could imagine Dream’s eyes wandering over his bright scars, tracing the raised edges and imperfect splotches with glee.

“I can’t believe you did it,” Dream said, seemingly star-struck at Tommy‘s transformation, from beaten and bloody to a soft-faced baby, fresh out of the womb. “Did it hurt?” He asked, voice feigning concern with a smirk under his mask.

Tommy nodded, not trusting his words at the rising conflicting emotions swirling in his gut. He felt at the same time a child awaiting his parent’s approval and a puppy steeling itself for a kick. Just the mere thought of submerging himself into the lava made his skin crawl with tremors, similar to the type of comfort he felt under this attention. Dream was way too close to him but there wasn’t anywhere to go, and he didn’t want to anger Dream by shying away.

The man reached out a hand, bandaged around the knuckles, the same hand that made him bleed before, but this time it was gentle. Dream trailed his thumb delicately over a scar he had left, then outlined the whiter patch on his cheek. Tommy could feel his face burning from the interaction, way too intimate for his comfort. “These scars,” Dream muttered, drawing even closer, running his fingertips down his jaw onto his neck. “So intricate. Stunning, really.”

Tommy shuddered in discomfort at the hands near his thin neck, trying to plead with his eyes, to disappear the mask so he could know what Dream was thinking. He jerked his head away involuntarily, letting out a squeaky “Stop-“

Dream pulled his hand away with a frown. “Stop what, Tommy? I’m giving you a compliment.” He fixed his posture to look more relaxed, returning his palm on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’m really proud of you taking the initiative. I always thought you were too chicken-shit to do it yourself.” He said, then let go and grabbed Tommy’s hand instead, holding it up to inspect the extent of the burn scars. “I mean look how cool this is,” he gestured to the pale patches of skin. They wound up his arm like vines, and Dream pushed up his sleeve to see where they continued. The skin under his shirt had a new pattern, atop the pale marks were imprints from the cotton fabric, echoes of the process of burning into his skin during the incident.

Dream’s hands felt like fire wrapped around his arm, he knew he needed a connection with someone, to feel the warmth of another person but this just felt all awkward and wrong. “Describe to me how it happened. What you did to get these.” Dream told him.

With Dream’s hands still wandering, Tommy gulped and tried to control his shaking whilst recounting that night. “I-I only put my hand in, a-at first.” He said, and Dream nodded, moving to inspect his other hand, seeing the clear white skin pulled over the tips of his index and middle fingers. “It hurt, like a lot. B-but I couldn’t just, not. I didn’t want Sam to- he couldn’t know and so I just...” Tommy gasped when Dream pinched his wrist suddenly, the fresh skin tearing under his fingernails and bright blood beginning to swell at the wound.

“Go on,” Dream demanded when Tommy stared wide-eyed up at him, like he didn’t do anything.

Tommy struggled to control his breathing, ignoring the pain in his wrist while he picked up the pieces of memory he desperately wanted to forget. “I just f-fell in and it... it was awful. Everything hurt a-and I couldn’t see anything... I just wanted it to end.” He recalled, close to tears, so he shut his eyes to stop himself from crying.

“You did the right thing,” Dream said, patting the top of his head. He sighed then took a step back, digging his hands in his hoodie pockets. “And here I thought you were gonna be mad at me. I even came here today to apologize for the way I acted.” Dream was staring off to the side seeming uninterested, he gave a shrug. “You know I don’t want to hurt you, Tommy.”

 _Bullshit_ , Tommy thought, but couldn’t get himself to say it aloud. There was zero chance Dream ever considered apologizing to him, yet some part of him wanted to believe the man.

Dream lifted his head, watching Tommy for a response. “You don’t believe me,” he said, sounding hurt. The act fell through quickly, however, as Dream scoffed, “You do realize I’m the only one who is here for you, right? Literally no one else has visited. I don’t have to be here, Tommy!” He threw up his hands, ignoring the flinch from the boy in front of him.

Tommy’s eyes instantly darted to the raised fists, pulling up his arms instinctively. “Why are you here then?” He blurted out.

Dream glared back, thinking on his response for a minute. “We’re more alike than you think, Tommy. I’m here to make sure you end up on the right path.”

The teen was taken aback by Dream’s apparent honesty, yet angered at the thought that Tommy would be anything like the monster who killed his best friend, destroyed his country, and locked him in prison. “I’m nothing like you,” Tommy objected, scowling.

“Sure you are. When I look at you I see this ill-managed force of chaos, you make every intersection hostile, you cower to threats but deal them at every opportunity.” Dream stepped closer, waving his hands around dramatically, “You’d turn against anyone, even your own family the second things don’t go your way. You’re reckless, short-fused, egotistical, even more than me, I’d say.”

Tommy’s frown grew more titled as the insults went on. “And you’re a bloody bastard-“ he muttered before Dream interrupted him.

“I was the same way when I was your age, Tommy.” Dream went still suddenly, back in his statue-like posture, looming over the boy despite being shorter than him. “Except I didn’t have anybody. No friends, no family, no attachments-“

“That’s fucking depressing,” Tommy said, thinking back to the speech Dream gave to him and Tubbo back in his weird basement dungeon. He said then too, that he cut all his attachments because they made him weak.

He laughed, bitterly. “I thought so too, at first. Then I taught myself how to fight, I clawed my way to power, and I realized that those things only hold you back. Once you’ve made your enemies, anything you care about becomes a weak point. A vulnerability,” Dream monologued, pacing in a short line in front of Tommy. “Like you and your stupid discs. Do you know how easy it was to lead you on, to drag you away from your friends, to make you give up your possessions, all because you obsessed over those useless items? They made you hesitate every time, they made you dive into whatever danger you were pointed to.”

“At least I gave a shit about something! I’d rather kill myself than become a heartless bitch like you!” Tommy bit back, clenching his fists, leaning towards Dream. He had let the masked man boast for too long, sick of his narcissistic act. His adrenaline boost warned him in his head, reminding him that he shouldn’t make Dream angry but he couldn’t stand this crazy talk.

“I’m trying to help you, Tommy,” Dream’s voice dropped to a dangerous level, to that dark undertone that threatened violence. “I’m trying to be nice here but you’re really pushing my kindness. I don’t have to be nice.”

Tommy’s heartbeat echoed harsh in his ears, he could feel his blood boiling under the surface of his skin, reaching the top of his anger from Dream’s lies. “You’ve never been kind, you fucking- all you’ve ever done is push me around, destroy everything I’ve worked for; you’re a menace! You should be in prison, Dream! Not me!” The words exploded from his mouth, beyond his control. He couldn’t feel his fingers anymore from their tight grip, glued to his sides, itching to strike.

To his rage, Dream smirked, “It’s a good thing you’re not in charge here then, Tommy. You’re not leaving for a long time, not until you can’t recall what the sun looks like, when no one remembers your name, when any home you could have gone back to is long gone, burned to rubble.” He matched Tommy’s anger with a mocking tone, “You can’t do anything to stop me, Tommy. I’ve won. You’re going to rot in here for the rest of your pitiful life-“

Tommy wasn’t thinking. His vision clouded in red, he let out a feral screech and threw his hands out, catching Dream in the side of his jaw with his closed fist. His other hand followed, hitting with an audible smack over his mask. That was the last of his advantage, though, as Dream quickly stepped back into a defensive pose, fuming while he reset his mask.

“You’re gonna regret that,” Dream growled, cracking his knuckles and readying his fists.

Tommy felt the rage drain immediately, replaced by regret and fear. He let his eyes go wide and he shrunk back against the wall, hunching his shoulders and preparing to protect his vital points. “W-wait, Dream, I take it back, I’m sorry, please don’t-“

Dream cut off his rambling with a roundhouse kick to his head, sending Tommy stumbling to the side and onto his knees. He tried to plea again but to no avail, when Dream began kicking his abdomen over and over, not giving even a shred of mercy as Tommy curled into himself and cried in pain.

Dream continued kicking, aiming for the same spot at the curve of Tommy’s stomach where he hunched over, bruising his arms as they attempted to cover his soft midsection. Dream could feel when his shoe met the edge of a rib cage, he moved to strike higher up the boy’s chest, relishing in the sounds of his lungs seizing.

When he decided he was finished, Dream knelt down and grabbed the neck of Tommy’s shirt, pulling up his limp head and striking him in the face a few times for good measure.

Tommy had stopped crying, he only whimpered and shook, cradling his abdomen when Dream released him, hitting his head onto the floor with a heavy thud. He choked out blood with each sob, attempting to breathe but his body kept convulsing as his core muscles spasmed, unable to handle the trauma. Dream stepped back at this point, grinning over his handiwork. “I’m leaving now, don’t count on me coming back for at least a week or two,” he said, but he sounded far away. Tommy couldn’t register the words anyhow, his senses all fuzzy and inoperable. He wanted to be as far from his body as possible, to float above and away until he couldn’t feel a thing.

He could vaguely make out the lava receding, Dream walking towards the exit, giving his last words, “Remember, no one can know about this. You know what to do.”

Then he was gone. Tommy left lying on the hard ground, blood pooled around his face, still warm to the touch, sticky and reminiscent of red honey. He couldn’t make any sense of the scale of his injuries, all he knew was that every breath was pain and the organs in his chest only consisted of jelly. He was a soup, chunks of bone and blood churning violently under his skin, indiscernible from any other liquid in his chest cavity. A cold numb feeling was slowly filling his legs, starting at his toes and inching up to his knees. He felt too tired to care, he clenched his eyes and tried to focus on breathing through the knife-like jabs of pain. He wished he could just die already, to get it over with and succumb to the void. At least he wouldn’t be hurting anymore. He would never need to fear Dream again, he would never have to plead for attention. He would see Tubbo again.

Despite his head full of fuzz, his dizzy lack of mental awareness that he knew was a concussion, he tried to unlatch the tension in his body. He coughed as the blood trailing up his throat thickened, but ultimately let the heat drain out of his system to stain the obsidian an even darker purple. Almost black. He shouldn’t sleep now, he knew, he knew if he slept he would probably never wake up.

But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. He wasn’t comfortable in his position, knees drawn to his aching chest, neck strained and chin tucked to his collarbone. But he couldn’t move if he tried.

He felt the cold seep Into his bones for the first time since being trapped here. It felt like a cold shower after a summer afternoon, playing in the sun. He imagined running in a field of dandelions, sneezing and laughing as the spores flittered through the air around him. Somewhere behind him, on a grassy hill under a shady tree, Philza sat laughing with Wilbur on a picnic blanket, watching the young boy spin and the wisps fly in the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you may have seen, Ive decided this to be the second to last chapter, and I've already begun writing the last. this has been a wild ride and i'm super happy with how its been received, im glad yall can share in my love for all things angst
> 
> let me know what you think, and I'll see you for the final chapter! thank you!! ^-^

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading.
> 
> Ratings may change as I decide how evil and fucked up I want to be. >:)


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